A/N: again, this is written at about 2 in the morning, so don't get your hopes up. I'll be lucky if this even turns out the way I want it to. Enjoy if you can.

12 years earlier

"I'm just sayin', it wouldn't hurt them to just try a little. They spend all their time grunging around damning people when they should just…just…let loose once in a while." Crowley swung his arms about enthusiastically, almost splattering his white couch with the horribly expensive wine.

"Grunging? I don't think it's quite right to make up words Crowley dear." Aziraphale calmly refilled his own glass, hardly slurring a bit. They hadn't quite managed to get themselves into a proper drunken escapade, but they were well on their way.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Hello Angel. Have we met? I'm a demon, I think 's my G…Hel…Whosever's given right to do what I damn well please!" He flung himself across the couch, nearly kicking Aziraphales glass out of his hands. Aziraphale gently moved Crowley's feet from his lap.

"I think you have had about enough now dear." He snagged the wine bottle from Crowley's reach before he could down the rest of it in spite. "We both have work that needs doing. Idle hands and all that." Crowley groaned.

"What's the point?!" As Aziraphale went to put away the dirty glasses Crowley sobered with a thought. "You do some do-gooding, I do some do-bading, it just all cancels out. Why do we have to do anything but whatever we want?" An image of a particularly good activity jumped into his mind of what he and the angel could be doing.

"Sloth is a sin, dear. And because, it's ineffable. It's what we were meant to do; it's all part of His—"

"Yeah yeah, 'His-great-ineffable-all-powerful-plan' speech. Heard that one before." Aziraphale held the door open and the two left Crowley's loft. As the door closed the plants visibly slumped, glad not to have been hit with any flying glass.

The two super-powerful beings stood on the street corner, just watching the humans stroll by, trying to avoid the actual parting of ways. Crowley turned away and looked out towards the duck pond that the two would frequent occasionally.

"So, what are you up to today angel? Off to go convince some pimply teenager it's alright to—" Aziraphale cut him off.

"No. No, actually, I have some business to oversee across the pond. Things have gotten a little out of hand recently, and the Upstairs are getting a might bit antsy." Crowley stared at the pond, then back to the angel. Aziraphale smiled back ignorantly.

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and smirked. "Yeah, I agree, those ducks need a stern talking to. Not sure what the world would come to without ya angel." Aziraphale blushed a bit.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Do you always have to be so…"

"Evil?"

"Stubborn. Stubborn was what I was going to say." Crowley chuckled and gave the angel a little smile as he miracled himself to the states. Crowley was about to do the same (at least not to the same place, because that would be ridiculous) when some toff came up and started sniffing him.

You read that right; sniffing him.

Crowley looked at the man from over his sunglasses, perturbed. The man didn't seem to notice, although he had apparently gotten a good enough whiff when he stepped back and started staring back intensely. Crowley would have been able to work with it if it had been his kind of intense staring, the kind that screams "come hither" from across a bad-lit bar. But this was the kind of blatant awkward staring that would usually give one the goosebumps.

The two just stood there…staring. Crowley got some satisfaction from the aggravation radiating off the other passerby, but it was bittersweet. He was about to miracle himself a handy-dandy disaster when he spoke.

"May I borrow your mobile?"

That has got to be the worst hello I have ever heard.

Crowley handed over his sleek, up to date, cutting edge, top of the line mobile without a word. He was a little crushed when the man didn't even blink at the expensive piece of hardware. He was contemplating changed some of his strategies when it came to tempting strangers in the fine art of envy when the phone was suddenly shoved back into his hand. Or his personal bubble anyway. When Crowley went to take it back, he noticed that very little of the man's skin was actually showing.

The creepy mortal was wearing gloves with a matching blue scarf and trench coat. He was also wearing a very strange hat with earflaps. Crowley made a note to add that to the runway line up for the next show in Milan.

"Thanks." Crowley watched the man walk into the nearest café. He could see from the reflections in the room that the man was watching him as he sat down. Crowley just stood there for a few moments, staring right back (although it was hard to tell with the sunglasses).

"Well…I wonder how the angel's day is going."

Crowley turned to go back to his apartment, unaware that the man at the café had pulled out his own phone and texted a quick message before he immediately left leaving a different way that he had come.

BRIMSTONE, SULFUR, APPLES?